


Dreams Made of Reality

by ofself



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Future Fic, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofself/pseuds/ofself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Away from the Upper East Side, they longer adopt persona's but just become who they really are. And maybe they are even on their way to being something more than just friends. Dan/Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Une

a/n - So I have been watching season 2 of Gossip Girl and frankly speaking it's kind of losing it's charm for me. Some how the second season doesn't seem as gasp-worthy as the first -le sigh- Anyhow those are my sentiments, dont read too much into them. But I still love Dan/Blair. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own GG, Jimmy Choos, Herve Leger, John Donne, The Romantics, or the lyrics which are from Flo-Rida's song Right Round. The lines are from the chorus which is insanely catchy and stuck in my head. I thought they fitted well here, so.

And here goes my first decent attempt at a full length Dair fic. Thanks to  **Bright123**  for so nicely beta-ing this. The fic is AU.

ETA: First posted April 24, 2009 on ff.net

* * *

_You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down._

 

* * *

Did he just have that dream again?

He sits up and shakes his head experimentally because he cannot have that dream. He cannot have that dream where he's pressing butterfly kisses on skin as smooth as silk. He cannot have that dream where he is mesmerized by ruby red lips whispering sweet nothings. He cannot have that dream where his nose is filled with the heady smell of begonias wafting from thick mahogany colored tresses.

He cannot have that dream where he just grabs her on the streets and pulls her in for a kiss.

He cannot dream of Blair Waldorf because she's the Queen B. and he's just Lonely Boy, from the opposite end of town.

/

This is not the first time he's dreamt of her. He doesn't even know from when exactly he started dreaming of her. Maybe it was from when he saw her on her birthday all beautiful and lost, living in her own little bubble, waiting for Nate to come calling. Or maybe it was from when he saw her at school, daintily walking down the hallways with a curious half smile on her face. He just doesn't know.

All that he knows is for quite sometime, Blair Waldorf and her fashionable self have been invading his dreams.

And he can't seem to figure out why.

/

He's meeting Serena for coffee - as friends because they have finally figured that as a couple they are much too complex to click - but when he gets to the coffee shop, instead of Serena he finds an impeccably dressed Blair, sitting at the table and looking bored.

"Something came up and Serena said she'd text you later with details. So I'm keeping you company until you bore me out of my skull," she says in answer to the quizzical expression on his face.

"And that shouldn't take long," he replies sardonically.

She just sweetly smiles at him and if he didn't know the real Blair Waldorf he could have sworn he cannot see the murderous hint behind it. But he does know her and he does see the hint. Just his luck to have decidedly R-rated dreams about a girl who very clearly thinks of him as nothing more than lonely, awkward, bitter/sarcastic and nerdy boy from Brooklyn.

He sits down across the table and when he catches a hint of those begonias, all those dreams come back in a rush and he swallows nervously, hoping to goodness that he won't blurt out anything incriminatory. His cheeks color and when he finds her looking at him curiously, almost with concern he chokes and coughs.

She doesn't say anything but pushes her bottle of sparkling water towards him and motions him to drink.

He grasps the bottle and pours the liquid down his burning throat.

"Did you choke on air?" she questions.

He wants to answer that he choked on the smell of begonias wafting from her hair but even with his lack of social skills he knows that would be so so wrong. So instead he nods.

"Likely story. However I have a store to visit and since Serena begged me to keep you occupied, you're coming with me," she says as she gets up and leaves a couple of notes on the table.

That's typical Blair. You may not want to do something but when she says it you inevitably find yourself doing it, especially if you are Lonely Boy from Brooklyn who just can't seem to get enough of the Queen B., never mind that more than half the time you are just as annoying or more as the gum that got stuck on her one of a kind Jimmy Choos.

/

He is following her like a lost puppy, head hung low, wondering if trailing behind Blair and spending time with her is a good thing for his sanity, when she suddenly stops in front of him.

"Why do you look like you are going to a funeral?" she questions curiously.

He is thrown off course. He's so used be being worthless gum, that concern feels very out of place and new, coming especially from her.

And for the second time in the day, he chokes on air and maybe a tiny hint of begonias.

"I was just thinking," he manages to stutter. He knows he's lying and the sad part is even she knows he's lying. But it's one of those days when she just lets him be and doesn't throw any barbs about him and Brooklyn his way.

She leads him into a high end boutique, the name of which he doesn't know. All he knows that judging by its sparse racks and artful décor it's something high-end. He sits in a corner while women dressed in slinky black sheaths and impossibly high heels mill around her like moths to a flame. Blair Waldorf is fashion royalty to be fawned over. However she blows them off politely and peruses the racks at her leisure.

It's always all about doing things her way.

She finally finds something and carries it into the dressing room.

He watches her as she comes out. It's a yellow Herve Léger bandage dress. He knows the dress because Jenny has been going on and on about it. Except he's pretty sure, the dress wouldn't look good on Jenny. Jenny is tall and slender, all angles and bones. The dress is meant for someone with just enough curves. Like Blair. The dress fits her like second skin, hugging her body in all the right places. And though it fits her perfectly, it still doesn't feel right.

And he doesn't know why he does it but he says it anyways. "You should get that in red or in jewel tones." His ears turn pink and he wishes the earth would open and swallow him up whole. Because Nate would have complimented her on the dress and her beauty, Chuck would have commented on her beauty in a different manner. Only  _he_  would open his big mouth and tell her to get a different color.

She turns around to look at him quizzically, not expecting him to be the one giving her fashion advice. But years of living with an aspiring designer have at least taught him something.

"You are right, Humphrey," she says and walks off to ask the assistant about the other colors available. He sees that she follows his advice and gets the dress in ruby red. The dress is beautiful and is showed off to even greater advantage against her pale skin and dark hair. His breath catches at the sight of her in the mirror, posing gracefully.

His dreams take on a new direction tonight.

/

She leads the way out of the store and he follows. It's just like in the dreams. She leads with an alluring smile and bewitching gaze and he follows, trusting implicitly. If she wants she could lead him over the edge of a cliff and he would follow.

She's like the damned pied piper.

She leads him next to book store. A book store that's falling apart and filled with dusty old books and is smelling of beeswax and lavender. This is his kind of place. One where he fits in instantly. She also seems equally at home, her fingertips delicately dancing over the fragile spine of bound books.

She seems to be slowly taking over every aspect of his life. Invading his dreams and real life. But he doesn't mind. The fragrance of begonias makes everything better.

But he needs to know.

"Why are we here?" And with it goes the silent question, why in my domain.

"I thought it would cheer you up," she says, not meeting his eyes. He is touched beyond words. He may not be in the same league as Serena, but at least he's moving up from the status of gum stuck to the shoe. It's exhilarating knowing that.

"Thanks," he says and she rolls her eyes in response. But she seems far from miffed. If he's right he can see the slightest hint of a dimple peeking from her cheeks. But for posterity's sake he is not.

She turns away and disappears into the bookshelves and he smiles and browses. Half an hour later he's at the counter with a slender volume of early nineteenth century poetry in his hands. The Romantics are beckoning to him again. He needs some beautiful imagery to counteract the wiles of Blair Waldorf in his dreams.

She comes up to his side with a book in her hands too. He squints and notices that it's the poetry of John Donne. He smiles; John Donne is one of his favorites.

"What? I happen to like well written metaphors," she says a tad defensively.

He just smiles and nods.

/

He walks out of the store and she follows, soon catching up to him. She's chewing her lip insistently and that action bothers him. Because it's the kind of action that's going to make him lose control of his tightly repressed emotions and kiss her senseless on the sidewalk/street.

God, he sounds like a  _fucking_  romance hero from a cheap trashy novel.

"Is it about a girl?" she suddenly questions him, looking straight in the eyes, so that try as he can, he can't look away. He takes some time before he answers though, weighing his options carefully, even though the begonias are telling him to throw caution to the wind.

"Yes, it is," he answers carefully.

"Well, whoever it is, she's not worth it," she says looking at him, again with piercing brown eyes.

Well he has to disagree, because in his head, Blair Waldorf is just about worth everything.

"Actually, she is."

"Well not until I approve of her," she says with a playful smile. And he smiles back, wanting to laugh at the irony.

"You would approve her," he says with a smile.

"Well, I look forward to meeting her," she says with an enigmatic smile, that once again replays those dreams in sweet slow motion.

And someday she will he thinks, as he nods and assures her with a smile. Until then his dreams will have to do.

But he hopes that like everything else, they turn to reality.

She hooks her arms through his and they walk down the street, still Lonely Boy and Queen B, but someday he knows that they will be more than just two different people on opposite ends of town.

And he's going to patiently wait for that day.

* * *

_You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down_

 


	2. Deux

This would be a follow up to 'Dreams Made of Reality' . Both of them are different but I sort of had to put this up as a continuation because it references events from before which would seem random if I put this up separately. I know this is sort of different from Dan's view but after I began writing it , it kind of ran it's own course after which I basically lost control. So sorry if it wasn't what you were expecting.

Also a gazillion thanks to  **Bright123** , my awesome-tastical beta. I dedicate this fic to her. Before I sent it to her I was basically wringing my hands pathetically over the fic but she really cleaned it up. :)

Disclaimer : I don't own Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel, Starbucks , Herve Leger or GG. It's evident that I'm a pathetic failure.

* * *

She isn't exactly a scrupulous person. She does twist certain things around to her advantage but somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of polish, class and status, she's a somewhat good person. It's just that the Upper East Side has no use for goodness.

Absolutely no use at all.

So she just packs it away under layers and layers, till the real Blair Waldorf is safely hidden from heartache and suffering and petty arguments.

Sometimes she wishes, mind you almost, not fully, but maybe just a little, that she has a steady conscience, like that of Dan Humphrey's. But once again the Upper East Side has no use for a conscience.

They like to live by this motto of "Once a bitch, always a bitch".

And sometimes it becomes a burden, aiming for perfection all the time and having people around you, just waiting to watch you fall from grace and hoping your demise entertains.

But spending time with Dan is different. Sure he judges her too, at first. But at least he's willing to acknowledge that she can change. It boosts her confidence that at least someone other than her father, someone who isn't related to her has faith in her.

And with him she finds all of her layers slowly peeling back. It's an interesting experience, further compounded by the fact that Dan is the one causing all the layers to peel back.

She likes it.

/

She's been spending quite a lot of time with him now. It all started with filling in for Serena at the coffee shop but it's progressed to her dropping in at his house whenever she wants, whenever she feels like it, and him dropping in at her house sometimes, always announced.

She likes the feel of his house better than hers. It's homely and lived in and despite her reservations, spotless and clean. And Rufus always has something wonderful cooking and more often than not she ends up eating at their place and then going home and picking at her food, leaving her mother to wonder if her daughter is alright. She's more alright than ever, thanks to Dan.

She's even becoming friends with Jenny again. It's inevitable that they bond over fashion and their shared dislike of Vanessa, a topic everyone avoids.

Slowly there are signs of her that are pervading the house. There are hydrangeas around every corner, sweet and clean, Rufus seems to be testing out more and more French recipes and Dan often finds some of his books missing though they always eventually come back, smelling ever so slightly of begonias.

It's all good though. She's a welcome addition to the family, always in the thick of things unlike Serena who always seemed to stand forlornly on the peripheries, watching.

/

It's a Saturday and she drops into Brooklyn casually dressed without even her customary handbag. She's got a reading she wants to go to and Dan is her chosen companion. Technically her only companion but that doesn't bother her, considering, oddly enough, that if she had other options she would have chosen him anyways.

Rufus lets her in and she smiles and greets him before waltzing to Dan's room as she's done numerous times before. She opens the door without knocking and walks in to find, Dan standing, half-wrapped in a towel, wet and dripping. There's look of shock on his face and she's fairly sure she's red.

It's one of those few times where Blair Waldorf has been struck speechless. And technically Dan should feel proud. But what she doesn't know is that, that is the last thing running through his mind because all he can think of is how he wishes the situation was reversed.

Because  _dear sweet God_ , he'd die a happy boy then.

She shuts the door hurriedly, with none of her usual panache and makes her way to the kitchen, her cheeks still flaming and tries to regain something left of her composure.

A few moments later Dan comes out, tripping almost in his haste to see if Blair is still there.

Rufus doesn't miss the sigh of relief emanating from his son and nor does he miss the blush on Blair's cheeks.

Noticing all of this, he smiles. There is something a-brewing in the air and to him it smells deliciously like romance.

/

Blair spends the rest of the day with Dan and everything seems normal. Through silent agreement, both of them don't mention the morning's… incident.

It's only later on in the night when Blair climbs into bed does she allow herself to think of it.

A half-naked Dan with rivulets of water running down his body is the stuff fantasies are made of. She can't believe that such a body exists under those shirts and vests and the almost bordering on skinny jeans he wears.

Moreover she can't believe the said body belongs to Dan Humphrey.

Before she falls asleep, the last thought in her head is that someday Dan is going to make some woman very happy with his mixture of looks, charm, intelligence and a smoking hot body.

She almost wishes it were her.

Once again, she notes the almost.

/

The next day she awakes with a start, landing painfully on the floor.

She has just had a dream. She doesn't know if it quite qualifies as a nightmare or a fantasy, considering she certainly enjoyed it, but as of now, it horrified her.

Should dreaming of her good friend Dan in an entirely un-friendly manner qualify it as a nightmare even though it was definitely pleasant?

Blair has never been so confused in her life as she rushes to the bathroom to wash away the last remnants of sleep and the slivers of distorted reality that are floating around in her head.

She steps out of the bathroom wet and awake and wrapped in a towel but all it takes is one look in the mirror for the images to come flooding back.

She has a problem.

And she has the uneasy feeling that it's here to stay.

/

The next day she meets him again, this time in Starbucks. And when he asks for his latte, she chokes because now even his voice seems to doing things to her. He hurriedly gets her a bottle of water and after she takes a sip, she can feel the color slowly return to her cheeks with renewed force as his gaze zeroes in on her face.

"Choking on air?" he asks with a mischievous smile, referring back to that all important original meeting where she saw him as something more than just Lonely Boy.

"Very funny Humphrey," she manages to say before a fit of coughing overtakes her once more. He soothingly rubs circles over her back, sending heat flashes and tingles across her body and she muses that the combination of Dan Humphrey and the air that she breathes can be quite dangerous.

He leads her out of the coffee shop, his arm around her waist and Blair decides that it's time for her to stop acting like an idiot. This madness is temporary and like everything this too, shall pass.

But spending time in close proximity with him makes her realize that she quite likes the faint smell of cologne and soap that hangs around him. Something about it is very soothing and exciting at the same time.

She then steps away from him and his closeness, mutters something about having to go and runs away to the safety of her house leaving behind a bewildered and slightly dazed Dan Humphrey who unknown to her has been metaphorically turning cartwheels ever since holding her in his arms.

She gets home, a little flustered and a little frustrated. She likes Dan, considering he's been such a friend to her, and to rid herself of these ideas, she decides to re-evaluate whatever has been happening so far. She thinks back, goes over every little detail and analyses it to bits until she makes a shocking discovery. She realizes that she likes Dan Humphrey and has liked him ever since he suggested she pick a ruby red Herve Léger.

She likes him not because he's making her somebody else but simply because he helps her be the better, real girl. She likes him because around him, she's Blair a seventeen year old girl who is actually nice and not Blair Waldorf, Queen  _Bitch_  of Upper East Side.

And she discovers she has a million different reasons for liking him. And for once they are not based on looks, status or money, though his looks are definitely no problem.

She smacks her head in frustration because it's just her luck to like someone who seems to be neck deep in infatuation with some other girl who he adores endlessly.

It's like Serena and Nate and her all over again… and she still gets the short end of the stick.

And for the first time in moths she has a tantrum of epic proportions which ends in her throwing her brand new Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel perfume onto the street and spending the rest of day furiously baking pumpkin pies.

Dorota, who really is always there, bless her, keeps everyone else, especially her mother away from the kitchen and for that she is thankful. Because the last thing she needs is Eleanor Waldorf calling her out on her tantrum of epic proportions.

At night she falls into bed, tired and exhausted and she finally feels tears running down her face, because dammit she's tired of falling for someone who's pining for someone else.

But fate seems to have cruelly picked her a second time for this game.

Well, she's got news for fate. This time she isn't down without a fight. Blair isn't going to lose. And with that lovely thought, she's finally able to close her eyes.

/

Soon enough she begins on her plan. Its mission- Get Dan to notice her. And everyone in his house seems wise to her plans because Rufus is all encouraging and Jenny is constantly dropping hints to Dan. But the boy at the centre of all of this seems quite delightfully clueless.

He interacts with her, the same as before, with dry humor and earnestness and Blair actually wants to throw up her hands in despair. Is the boy dense? Can he not see or is she simply oblivious?

She learns a bit more about mystery girl and personally wishes she could strangle her. Because this stupid mystery girl who isn't even there in person manages to mess everything up.

She's got Jenny on the lookout to glean a little more information but it turns out that Dan is as tight lipped as they make them. However Jenny has this to say, whenever Dan's not with Blair, the girl is all he thinks about. Jenny knows this simply because the difference between a spaced out Dan and fully in possession of all his mental faculties - Dan is very obvious.

And it's obvious to her that she needs to step up the game.

Dan likes strawberries doesn't he?

Well she's got a plan involving strawberries and a whole lot of cream. And she's already licking her lips in anticipation.

/

A few days later she turns up at Dan's house with strawberries in hand. It's a good thing Rufus and Jenny are out because trying out this strawberry business in front of them would be the death of her.

"I brought you strawberries," she says with a cheerful smile.

And the look on his face matches that of a little child who's got a brand new toy. He eagerly takes the box from her and rips it open popping one of the strawberries into his mouth. The look on his face is almost orgasmic and she feels her knees go weak cause  _God_  does he look adorable and sexy at the same time. Nate can only manage the adorable and Chuck can only manage the sexy. Dan, on the other hand, seems to have the perfect grasp of both.

And for a second Blair feels jealous of Serena because Serena got to keep him for such a long while. And she also happened to be the girl of his dreams. She wonders whether Serena is still the girl of his dreams.

It is possible isn't it?

Serena would always be the 'It' girl. Unattainable and elusive and always the girl of his dreams.

She feels the faint stirrings of jealousy intermingled with a little pain. Because Serena will always be her best friend and worst enemy.

Screw the strawberries; all she wants to go home and do now is cry. She excuses herself, her voice sounding thin and reedy even to her ears and flees before the tears which are so dangerously close to falling, fall.

So she flees, leaving behind a bewildered Dan and a box of strawberries that seem to have lost all of their sweetness.

/

She goes home and weeps and weeps and weeps, exhausted by everything and refusing to even talk to her father.

It's seven in the night and she rises from her bed and wet pillow and makes her way to the bathroom. She takes a look at herself in the mirror and cringes because the girl looking back at her would never be Blair Waldorf.

But today she is and she's planning on staying that way because sometimes there's nothing better than wallowing in your own misery.

She's just going to hop back into bed with a box of truffles when Dan walks in. Ordinarily she would have protested at this breach of privacy and have him thrown out peremptorily but Dan looks the very definition of pissed.

His face is pale and she can see a vein pulsing in his neck. His normally warm brown eyes have taken on a hard glint.

She is almost , note the almost, scared despite her own problems.

"You," he says, "you are going to be the death of me."

She's a little confused here because she doesn't how she's causing his death when he's supposed to be the one causing hers. She's going to correct this mistake when he just steams ahead.

"Do you know I have dreams of you? That I have been having dreams of you? Dreams that I  _should not_  be dreaming. They torment me and you torment me by just being there, taking me one step forward and then two steps back. Sometime I feel that you know that I like you and suddenly you are back to being friends and I feel like a  _fucking_  idiot for thinking that and God, you just drive me so mad."

Will someone please for the love of God, make her a map that leads to whatever seems to be coming out of Dan Humphrey's mouth.

"So I make you mad because you like me and dream about?" she asks hazily deducing the gist of his speech.

"Something along those lines," he grumpily admits plopping down on the floor, the very picture of dejection.

Sometimes she thinks book smarts  _so_  do not count for intelligence. And Dan and she are prime ironic examples of it.

She sits down her floor next to him and stretches out her legs before.

"Well, you would have understood why I was taking two steps backward, if you had looked a little closer." She says a little miffed. It's his turn to look a little bewildered.

"If you kept going on and on about a mystery girl who seemed to be better than me, what did you expect me to do, wear my heart on a sleeve?" she demands.

"The mystery girl was you," he bursts out incredulously. "Did you not notice how freakily similar she was to you?"

He becomes indignant, proclaiming "How could I tell you, that you were her when you seemed to only want to be friends? I might as well have written pathetic on my head."

"Oh," is her only intelligent response. She never once noticed the similarities between her and the mystery girl.

"Then maybe you should have said something before," she says mutinously, pursing her lips, because she'll go to hell before she admits her ignorance.

"Yeah and if I'd told you I liked you before, you would probably have me expelled or something," he says dryly.

She nods thoughtfully because he does have a point. And here is the part where she's going to make it right. Even if being humble is so not her thing but for once she's willing to be the bigger person.

"Well, I was initially going to drive the mystery girl out of your thoughts, because when I'm there you shouldn't have to think of anybody else," he smiles at this bit of self-confidence or vanity, whatever you want to call it, "but then I thought maybe the girl was Serena. And you know that I can't compare with Serena." She finishes sadly.

"You can't compare with Serena because you and she are different. So comparisons would be basically pointless and skewed. You each have your own charms. And  _I_  happen to like  _your's_ better. Otherwise I don't think I'd be having dreams about you." he finishes off logically.

And just because she wants she plants a kiss on his lips. It takes him by surprise but he admirably rises to the challenge. Whatever may be his failings Dan Humphrey has his own merits which she very much appreciates.

When they finally break apart, she's breathless and he's breathless too and a little dazed. She smirks because she tends to have that effect and hopes he doesn't notice that she feels just as giddy.

"While this was lovely and I would very much like to continue, your Mom is sitting outside and waiting for you so I have to go." He says getting up and pulling her up with him.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks.

"You bet you will." She says, her formerly missing in action panache returning triumphantly.

"By the way, what were the strawberries for?" he asks

"They were supposed to lead to something along the lines of your dreams." She says mischievously.

"Crap, I can't believe I missed that. See you Waldorf." He says, the disappointment on his face is comical.

"See you Humphrey."

He exits from her bedroom barely making it out before her mother and Cyrus and Dorota enter the room.

"I'm fine." She says warding off all the concerned enquiries.

And this time she really means it, despite her appearance and make-up stating otherwise.

/

The next day she shows up at his doorstep and he opens the door, flowers in his hand.

"For you," he says handing her a bunch of deep red roses. They are not hydrangeas but she doesn't mind because she likes roses too.

She sniffs them appreciatively and leaves them on the kitchen counter. She then turns her gaze on him, where he's watching her, leaning against the bookshelves.

She's probably mentioned this before but the sight of Dan and books kind of turns her into jelly. Not that she's letting him know though.

"So what kind of dreams did you have?" she asks neutrally though a tiny little dimple peeps out of her cheek.

The question doesn't throw him off like she expects it to. Instead he smirks and responds with an unholy gleam in his eyes.

"The kind that would make Chuck Bass jealous."

"Care to demonstrate?" she asks moving forward. This would pretty much be the culmination of all her pent-up feelings which came into existence the moment she saw him standing wet and half-naked, all confused.

"Always a pleasure," he says moving forward to meet her lips. It's such a Chuck line but when coming from Dan, it doesn't sound as sleazy. It sounds sweet.

He maybe from Brooklyn and she maybe from the Upper East side and they may be complete opposites but right now they are just two teenagers, who happen to really like each other. Nothing else matters and nothing else should.

Because isn't life all about living for the moment?

This is a very good moment.

 


End file.
